Sunday 5 August 2018

August 5 sermon: The Right Question

So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
(John 6:24-35)

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     I recently listened to a radio interview with a neuroscientist (a scientist who studies the brain) who had been conducting research on the brains of various of God’s creatures in an effort to determine the respective levels of intelligence and cognitive abilities of each. She analyzed a diverse group of creatures, and basically, her research revolved around how many firing neurons each creature had in its cerebral cortex – the most important part of the brain. She came to some interesting conclusions. Cat people are not going to like this, but she concluded that dogs were twice as intelligent as cats. She explained that by saying that for thousands of years dogs have been specifically bred by humans to do certain jobs for us and so they’ve had to expand their brain activity in order to learn, whereas basically we just expect cats to be cats and to do what cats do. Bears and raccoons are at about the same level as dogs. Humans have 30 times the number of firing neurons as dogs and 60 times the number of cats, and we have double the number of firing neurons of gorillas. And she said that the truly unique thing about humans is that our brains cause us to ask questions. All higher animals, she said, are curious about their environments. I know that from watching my birds. Put something new in their cage and they’ll be apprehensive about it for a little while, but curiosity will eventually win out and eventually they’ll be trying to figure it out. But humans alone, she said, are more than curious. We ask abstract questions. What she meant was that we alone as far as she can tell have the ability to ponder and ask questions about things that aren’t right in front of us. We can ask “big questions.” Questions about the meaning of life; questions about our origin; questions about our destiny. No other creatures do that. The ability to question is what makes us by far, she said, the most intelligent creature on earth. It’s not having answers that makes us intelligent – it’s having the ability just to ask the questions in the first place. That’s what sets us apart. Perhaps that’s the divine spark – the image of God within us.

     The Gospel passage today seemed to be appropriate for a Sunday on which we celebrate Holy Communion. “Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’” On a day when the table is set, when the bread will be broken and the cup will be raised and the feast will be shared, what’s more appropriate than to be reminded of the fact that Jesus is the one who leaves us always nourished and satisfied. But the passage isn’t really about Holy Communion. It seems to revolve largely around an abstract question – those questions that apparently only human beings - blessed with the spark of the divine presence within us; made in the image of God – are able to ask. And, remember, it’s not the ability come up with answers that fundamentally makes us human – it’s the ability so simply formulate the question. The question itself tells us a lot about ourselves – and this question, raised in this context, and shared in this context today, tells us a lot about who we are as the people of God: “‘What must we do to perform the works of God?” the people who sought Jesus asked. “What must we do to perform the works of God?” It’s an interesting question from this crowd because, remember, these are not disciples of Jesus. They’re following Jesus, but they’re not followers of Jesus. But the question rings true  to me for followers of Jesus as well, and I wondered: Is this the question asked by the people of God today? I hope so, because I think it’s an appropriate question – the right question to ask – and I want to explain why.

     My gut reaction when I read the passage and first pondered this question was one of angst. “What must we do …?” is how it starts. And I was immediately taken aback by what at first glance appeared to be this query about legalism – the idea that somehow we have to do something to earn God’s grace, which is an oxymoron, since grace by its very nature is freely given to those who have done nothing to have earned it. But legalism is the bane of the Christian faith. So many well meaning Christians are locked into the cell of legalism, desperately thinking that they have to do something to earn their standing before God, and either then patting themselves on the back because they’re convinced that they’ve done it and they want the world to know, or falling farther and farther into fear because they realize that they haven’t done it and so they’ve lost hope – even in God. But that was a gut reaction. As I thought about the question more, I realized that there was something subtle happening here – something that revolved around the question itself. “What must we do to perform the works of God?” And as I focused on those words and that specific question, I suddenly realized that there was something important in the wording of the question. Simply scratching the surface of it wasn’t enough. One has to go deeper, beneath the surface – which is usually a good way to approach any Bible passage. And going deeper, I realized that the question asked is not “what must we do to be saved?” It is “What must we do to perform the works of God?”

     Those are two very different questions. The truth is that in many ways it seems more natural to ask “what must I do to be saved?” That sort of question reflects self-interest, and what’s more natural for us – or for any creature – to be concerned with our own well-being, and for humans (with our ability to ask abstract questions) what’s more natural than to be concerned with our eternal destiny? But interestingly (and perhaps surprisingly) that isn’t the question that the  people asked Jesus, and – again, if the questions we ask tell us a lot about ourselves – that question tells me two things about these people (and, hopefully, about ourselves.) The first is that even though they weren’t well acquainted with Jesus, the knew enough that they were not afraid. Had they been afraid or uncertain about where they stood with God they would have asked about salvation or eternal life – but they didn’t. Second is that they weren’t focused on themselves. Although they asked about what they could “do” their focus was elsewhere. So, if the question they didn’t ask tells me what the people were not thinking about, then the question they did ask tells me something even more important.

     Their question was “What must we do to perform the works of God.” There’s a confidence in that question; a sense of determination. Already, something about their encounter with Jesus has meant that the people are not afraid for themselves or their destiny and they’re not just acting in self interest and they aren’t worried about getting anything in return. Their desire, expressed in this question, is simply to please God – apparently, since they don’t express any uncertainty about salvation or eternity, simply because they want to please God. And Jesus’ reply to their question was “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” And then comes the narrative about Jesus being the bread of life.

     When we gather at the table, we’re showing that we believe in the one whom God has sent, and the gathering is symbolic of what Jesus himself tried to create: a community of people, among whom were no distinctions, among whom the differences of race or creed or gender didn’t matter, among whom were both wealthy and poor – but all of whom shared equally, joyfully and abundantly in the gifts God provided.

     When I reflected upon this question “What must we do to perform the works of God?” I thought of these words that were once spoken by Michelle Obama – the former First Lady of the United States: “Success isn’t about how much money you make, it’s about the difference you make in people’s lives.” I might put it a little differently for us, though. Performing the works of God isn’t about serving ourselves, it’s about treating others as equals, with respect and dignity always.” Sharing some simple nourishment from a simple table together is one way we show that.

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